To the tune of What’s Beef?
Guts is when you need to eat two types of tripe a night just to feel satisfied.
Guts is when your dad doesn’t feel safe eating street food with you.
Guts is when you walk around London wondering what Fergus Henderson is having for lunch.
Guts is when I see menudo on the menu.
The alternative titles for this magazine were, “What I Could Chew”, “Ass to Mouth”, “The Dirty Pages”, and “Nero di Seppia”. None of those felt entirely right, but all of them will be included in some way. They’re inside the guts, and the gut’s are inside me. I’m just trying to get them out.
To the tune of Return of the “G” but the “G” is for Guts:
What’s up with Guts? Is it a blog? Is it a newsletter? Can we eat it? What's a magazine anyway? Is it a cult? Are they on drugs? When's it going to drop? When’s it going to the printers?
Guts! They’re what we like to eat.
Guts! They’re what we like to spill.
Guts!™ An offal forward, confession booth of a restaurant lifestyle magazine. Slash comic strip. Slash fiction workshop.
There will be:
Words about tripe, liver, and brains.
Interviews with restaurant workers about the interior lives of restaurant workers.
Serialized fiction.
Comix with an “x”.
There will not be:
Lists.
AI anything.
Anti-vegan or anti-vegetarian anything.
Carnivore diet bullshit.
But we do eat brains over here. We put three types of stomach in our stomach. You’ve probably heard of nose to tail but what about ass to mouth? We eat all that too. Bourdain ate unwashed warthog anus in Namibia so eating cow vagina in Torino is the least we could do.